Waiting for the Bus
by TheEmptiestOfElegies
Summary: Just sitting on the corner, waiting for the bus. Looks like I'm gonna be late for a very important meeting... again. Humanized, one-shot. Based on the song of the same title by the Violent Femmes.


Skipper tapped his foot impatiently, glancing at his watch for the umpteenth time that morning. Would the bus ever get here? He'd been waiting for what seemed like hours, and the bus still wasn't here. What was worse? He was sitting next to a woman with two bratty kids who wouldn't stop complaining, and a guy with his date who kept kissing every five seconds. It didn't seem like this day could get any worse.

"Mommy," the kid who sat next to him whined, tugging on his mother's sleeve. "I'm thristy! It's too hot!"

"I'm hungry! I wanna go home!" his younger sister joined in, trying to peak inside her mother's purse to see if there were any hidden treats.

"I know you're hot, sweety," the mother sighed, her voice sounding strained. "Just a little longer now. And Sarah, you wanted to come to the store with me, remember?"

"But I'm thirsty!" The boy began kicking the bench seat, beginning to cry. His sister began to do the same. His mother sighed again, handing the boy a bottle filled with stale, lukewarm water. The kid immediately snatched it out of her hand, glanced at it, and abruptly threw it on the sidewalk. He resumed his fit, wailing at the top of his lungs. "I don't want water! I want a milkshake!"

Skipper gritted his teeth. He was going to kill someone if the bus didn't get here soon! He cast a sideways glance at the young couple who sat beside him, to find they were staring at the mother and her offspring with a look of disgust.

"Antonio, I certainly don't want children," the woman muttered, leaning into her boyfriend.

The sound of a diesel motor caused all five people to turn their heads towards the end of the street. Finally! The bus had gotten here!

"About time," Skipper grumbled, grabbing his duffle bag from the ground and shuffling behind the exasperated mother. When the bus door open, cigarette smoke instantly greeted Skipper's nostrils. He inwardly grimaced at the smell as the young woman paid her fare and dragged her children to the back of the bus.

Skipper absently handed the driver his transfer, watching the man scan the paper. He raised an eyebrow, expectantly waiting for the driver to speak and tell him to take a seat.

"Young man, your transfer's expired," the bus driver droned, throwing the paper back at Skipper, who easily caught it. "Would you please pay full fare?"

"I just got this transfer," Skipper snapped, shaking the paper in the driver's face. He vaguely heard someone in the back say something about a door.

"You have to pay your sixty-five cents or you'll have to leave the bus," the driver growled, putting out his cigarette.

"You gotta be kidding me!" Skipper exclaimed, slamming his hand against the railing. "I just got it!"

"Will you please open up the back door?" someone from the back griped. "It's hotter than Hell back here!"

Skipper grumbled a few choice words under his breath but nonetheless began to dig through his pockets for spare change, eventually finding the required fee. He stomped all the way to his seat, muttering about transportation and worthless transfers.

After the dating pair entered the bus and paid the fare, the bus lurched to a start. After about five minutes, it halted.

"Sorry folks, traffic's bad," the driver called over his shoulder. "It may be a while."

"I have a very important meeting I need to attend," Skipper yelled back. He glanced out the windshield and added, "This isn't bad traffic! This isn't even moderate traffic!"

"Will you shut up?" a man from near the back screeched.

Skipper growled, but didn't speak out. Even fighting against the evil Dr. Blowhole's secret agency D.O.L.P.H.I.N. wasn't as bad as this crap!

"Can you please try to get through traffic?" Skipper groaned. "You don't realize how important this meeting is."

"All you businessmen's meetings are important," the driver mumbled. "Fine, I'll try my best."

Crossing his arms, Skipper leaned against the seat and sighed. It seemed like this always happened; when a huge issue arrises and his team needed to meet up, he was always, always, late. Not that his team didn't expect it by now. Yep, that was the downside of your base of operations being located in the Big Apple. The real number one enemy of any New Yorker: traffic.


End file.
